---
Damien was asleep.
At least, it looked like sleep — shirt half-unbuttoned, one arm over his eyes, the other resting loosely on the black silk sheets.
The kind of sleep that comes from control, not peace.
Aurora lay beside him. Still in the hoodie he gave her.
Her face throbbed from the slap. Her lip was cracked and swollen.
But it wasn't the pain that kept her awake — it was the curiosity.
The ring on the table. The constant phone calls. The fact that she hadn't been allowed to use her own phone in weeks.
And most of all, the way he always locked one door down the hallway.
The only room he never entered while she was around.
The study.
Tonight, he forgot to lock it.
Or maybe…
he wanted her to try.
---
She slid off the bed quietly, barefoot. The floor was cold. She moved like a ghost, slow and quiet.
Damien didn't move.
She watched him one last time — the steady rise and fall of his chest — before she opened the bedroom door and slipped out.
The hallway was silent. Dimly lit by a single overhead bulb.
The house was quiet. But not peaceful.
The kind of quiet that listens.
She stepped past the guest rooms, past the massive mirror near the stairs… and stopped at the black door.
No lock.
Her heart pounded so loudly she swore it echoed.
She turned the knob.
It opened.
---
The study was cold.
Not physically — just in energy. The walls were lined with glass shelves full of things that didn't belong to her: old books, security monitors, guns in sleek black foam cases.
A small silver fridge hummed in the corner.
The desk was clean. Too clean.
She walked to it slowly, checking behind her once.
Still no sound.
Still no Damien.
Her fingers hovered over the drawers, then the desktop.
One small black folder sat half-open.
Inside:
A fake school record with her photo, but a different name
A document titled "Personality Map" with her name in bold
Several printed photos — some from school, some from outside her house
One was from her bathroom mirror — the day before she was taken
Aurora froze.
Her hand started shaking.
She flipped further into the file and found a page titled:
"Phases of Compliance – A. Steele"
Her name.
Her real name.
There were notes under each phase:
Phase 1: Isolation achieved. Full capture complete. Mother manipulated. No trace left.
Phase 2: Emotional breakdown pending. Non-responsiveness to affection – expected.
Phase 3: Forced bonding begins. Pregnancy timeline in progress. Ovulation confirmed.
Phase 4: Forced submission. Estimated: 3 weeks remaining.
Phase 5: Dependence. Emotional rewiring. Reversal of fear → desire.
Phase 6: Real loyalty. Optional reward phase.
Aurora felt sick.
She grabbed her mouth and backed away from the desk.
He planned this.
All of it.
Like a science experiment.
A machine made to break her piece by piece.
---
Behind her, a floorboard creaked.
She froze.
Turned.
No one.
Silence.
But that silence was thick now. Watching. Breathing.
She put the folder back — sloppily, hands shaking — and moved to leave.
She closed the door softly behind her, and tiptoed down the hall.
Opened the bedroom door.
He was still there.
Exactly as she left him.
Arm over his eyes.
Sleeping.
---
But when she slipped back into bed and pulled the blanket up…
…his lips moved.
Just a whisper. Barely audible.
But she heard it.
"Good girl."
Her blood ran cold.
---
She didn't sleep that night.
She stared at the ceiling.
Clutched the hoodie tight.
Her mind replayed the file.
Pregnancy timeline. Ovulation confirmed.
What had he done?
What was he doing to her?
---
The next morning, Damien acted like nothing happened.
He was in a crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled up, coffee in hand. He even made her breakfast.
"You look pale," he said, almost warmly. "Are you feeling alright?"
She stared at him. Her heart a silent drumbeat of horror.
"You didn't eat much last night."
"I wasn't hungry," she muttered.
"Well, you have to eat today." He handed her a glass of orange juice. "Doctor's orders."
She blinked. "What doctor?"
He smiled.
She didn't drink it.
---
That afternoon, he dropped her at school.
Tiffany ran up to her again, all fake smiles and sugary venom.
"You okay?" she chirped. "You looked kinda sick this morning."
"I'm fine," Aurora lied.
But she knew someone was watching her.
Not just Damien.
Tiffany too.
And maybe more.
She was surrounded.
She was trapped in a maze that looked like a life.
And she wasn't sure if she'd ever find the exit.